He was
only moved to speech when Mr. Wright described him as a white-whiskered
jezebel who was a disgrace to his sex, and then merely in the interests
of natural science.
"Don't you worry," he said, as the other paused from exhaustion. "It
won't be for long now."
"Long?" said Mr. Wright, panting. "First thing to-morrow morning you
have a telegram calling you back--a telegram that must be minded. D'ye
see?"
"No, I don't," said Mr. Kemp, plainly. "I'm not going back, never no
more--never! I'm going to stop here and court Mrs. Bradshaw."
Mr. Wright fought for breath. "You--you can't!" he gasped.
"I'm going to have a try," said the old man. "I'm sick of going to sea,
and it'll be a nice comfortable home for my old age. You marry Bella,
and I'll marry her mother. Happy family!"
Mr. Wright, trembling with rage, sat down to recover, and, regaining his
composure after a time, pointed out almost calmly the various
difficulties in the way.
"I've thought it all out," said Mr. Kemp, nodding. "She mustn't know I'm
not rich till after we're married; then I 'ave a letter from New Zealand
saying I've lost all my money. It's just as easy to have that letter as
the one you spoke of."
"And I'm to find you money to play the rich uncle with till you're
married, I suppose," said Mr.
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